


Chance (or not so chance) Meetings

by FlorentineQuill



Category: Cinderella (2015), Maleficent (2014)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen, because of course fairy godmother helena is related to our favorite trio of idiots, maleficent is still hella protective, mention of aurora's death, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3792889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlorentineQuill/pseuds/FlorentineQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maleficent gets the chance to chat with Fairy Godmother Helena when the latter drops by to check on Ella.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chance (or not so chance) Meetings

Maleficent stepped out onto the broad terrace overlooking the massive palace, holding two glasses. Diaval had spent the past hour charming the lords and ladies of the court, exchanging cordialities with this generation of diplomats, and working his way through the buffet stretched out across one long wall. Last she had seen him, he was slowly drifting through the throng surrounding King Christopher and Queen-to-be Ella. For her own part, she had remained near the edges of the crowds with her wings tightly tucked against her spine to prevent them from being trod on. In between her own conversations, she had kept her magical “ears” wide open. Magic had played a rather large role in this new story— Familiar magic at that.

She took the chance to stretch out her wings, eyes closed as she breathed deeply to ease cramping muscles. Magic flickered nearby, and she smiled. She folded her wings, and held out the glass that held blackberry cordial, eyes still closed. “I was wondering when you would appear, Helena.”

The weight of the glass vanished, and Maleficent opened her eyes. Ella’s erstwhile fairy godmother fit in with the court, wearing a puffy, oversized concoction in a dusky shade of rose. It was a stark contrast to Maleficent's gown, a sleek thing in several shades of muted forest greens, with a golden sash slung across her chest. “Maleficent,” Helena said. “I’m...surprised to see you and Diaval here.”

Maleficent smiled, thin-lipped and edged. “I was present for the boy’s coronation. Imagine my surprise to feel pixie magic dusted all over the capital of a kingdom with very little magic of its own.” She took a sip of her own drink, and waited.

“Not so unmagical as you might think,” Helena replied. She lacked wings, but her free hand fluttered. “Her mother’s family lived closer to the Moors, not too many generations ago.”

The puzzle fell into place with that final piece. “I see,” she murmured. She turned and considered the ballroom. “A descendent then? How thoughtful of you to intervene.”

Helena snorted. “As if you don’t know where each and every one of Aurora’s grandchildren is,” she said. 

“Technically, I don’t,” Maleficent replied. Helena look startled, and Maleficent’s smile was fond. “Diaval on the other hand, is much nosier. He keeps track of his hatchlings, my raven-man.” Her sideways glance was sharp. “Why didn’t you intervene sooner?”

Helena shied away a step, but she lifted her chin. “Not every fae can interfere as freely as we like. Especially outside of the Moors.”

Maleficent’s wings twitched, wanting to mantle at the dissembling. After two centuries, she had seen every kind of abuse that humans and fae could come up with. “That child _froze_ when she thought I might be angry. You said you were her fairy godmother.” She took a step closer to the pixie. She was much taller than the other faerie, and took full advantage of it. “Do not claim that title unless you mean to live up to it.” Magic sparked from her fingertips and along the edges of her wings, dashing out on the stone terrace.

Helena went pale for a moment before her cheeks burned red. “I am hardly my cousins,” she snapped. “And not every fairy godmother wants to be as close as you were. As you still are.” 

Maleficent didn’t flinch. Centuries had worn the edges from her grief, though every inevitable death still weighed on her. Humans were living far longer now, both due to improved health— and the mix of faerie blood. Fae-human relationships weren’t exactly common, but they weren’t unheard of either. 

All of Aurora’s descendants received one gift from her at birth, usually delivered by an anonymous, feathered, Diaval: One of her covert feathers, laced with so many spells that it gleamed, even in the sunlight. While she took greater care to remain close to the royal family, to make sure that they knew more of her than just legend, she had answered— and would answer— the call of anyone who held one of those feathers. “That is your choice,” she allowed, and Helena relaxed. “But if you fail her…” 

She had been unable to extract any true measure of revenge from Helena’s dimwitted pixie cousins. They had clothed Aurora, and fed her, seen that she had been taught her letters, but they were selfish creatures. She and Diaval had lost track of the times they had chided Aurora to leave them be, or shoo her outside after her chores were complete. More than once, Diaval had overheard them counting down the days to Aurora’s sixteenth birthday. Not out of concern for the curse, oh no, but until the day they could leave for the castle and the comforts of court.

“Fail her, and I will feed you to the dark fae in pieces,” she promised.

Helena met her gaze, cheeks still pink. “I would let you,” she said, and Maleficent breathed easier. 

There was a burst of laughter from within the ballroom, distracting both of them. Diaval’s raucous cackle was easily distinguished from the rest, and Maleficent let out her own huff of amusement. Helena looked at the brightly lit room, and tilted her head to one side. “I will be there for her, if she calls,” she said quietly. “But I don’t think she’ll need to, do you?”

Maleficent lifted one shoulder in a shrug. She tucked her wings against her spine again, and walked back towards the ballroom. “We shall see, won’t we?” She turned her head and cocked an eyebrow. “Are you coming or not? You can hardly check on her Highness from all the way out here.”

Helena’s eyes narrowed, and her chin tipped up. She picked up her voluminous skirts in fists that were only a little white-knuckled, and strode quickly to catch up to Maleficent. Determinedly ignoring each other, they re-entered the ballroom and were swept back into the fray.

**Author's Note:**

> The moment Helena neglected to take the pumpkin OUTSIDE the greenhouse before enlarging it, I decided she was related to the pixies. Distant cousins to be precise-- Strictly speaking, Helena has a little more elven blood in her than pixie but Maleficent's not feeling real charitable. 
> 
> I pulled some of the characterization of the pixies from The Curse of Maleficent by Elizabeth Rudnick. While it's not the most engaging novelization ever written, there are some gems of backstory/characterization. Like how Aurora was apparently drawing Maleficent and Diaval from a young age and the pixies were too busy complaining to notice.


End file.
